


the detour

by days4daisy



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bar Room Brawl, Bounty Hunters, Canon Divergence - Thor (2011), Drunkenness, Interspecies Relationship(s), M/M, Misunderstandings, Pre-Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 05:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19660378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: A bounty comes across the channels. Return one missing prince of Asgard, make a buttload of units. Just another day for Rocket and Groot.





	the detour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChookTingle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChookTingle/gifts).



> I hope you have a nice MCUEx, ChookTingle!

“I am Groot.”

“Shut up, man. I ain’t staring.”

Only, that’s exactly what Rocket is doing. Staring across at the wood counter on the other side of this crappy bar. It’s busy up front. This hub’s known for getting riff-raff from all over. Things that look like humies. Things that look like bears with crocodile heads. Things that look blue or green or pink. Things that look like Rocket and Groot.

And things that look like the guy Rocket’s staring at. A black cloak shields his body, hood pulled down. Blue eyes scan the crowd, mouth pursed in a waiting line. His blonde hair is half pulled back, the side strands wound in thick braids.

Rocket is staring alright, but not for the reasons Groot thinks. There’s a reason why they’re camped out in this crap bar on an R&R hub Rocket would never pick in a million years. “Y’know, Groot, one of these days you’re going to appreciate my perceptiveness.”

“I am Groot,” Groot says. He sounds sarcastic, the jerk.

“See, I pay attention,” Rocket says. “When people say stuff that matters, it sticks in my brain. And what I remember is, that guy? He’s going to be our meal ticket for the next five years.”

Thor looks a little different from the bounty reel. His hair is longer, and it’s got the fancy braids now. His face is leaner too. Galavanting around instead of lounging in a fancy palace will do that to royal types.

This guy’s a prince. A prince who hasn’t been home in three years. A prince whose worried sick fam wants to pay units out the rear to get him back. It's a win-win job, Rocket gets a feel good story and he gets rich. Or pretty boy here can pay him and Groot more than what his family’s offering to pretend they never saw him. Either way, Rocket’s about to be rolling in dough.

“I am Groot,” Groot chimes in.

“I don’t _only_ pick the pretty ones,” Rocket growls. “What about that T’valek dude we snapped up on Vandrig? Oof. That guy was a piece of work.”

“I am Groot,” Groot agrees, with as much distaste as a big tree face can show.

The guy’s all alone at the bar. Perfect opportunity to make themselves known.

Only, their target isn’t alone at the bar for long. He’s surrounded by a pack of mean looking types in a blink. Rocket watches, feet kicked up on their table. “What are the chances they're chatting about the weather?” he mutters.

Under the table, Rocket flicks the safety off his side blaster. They didn’t come all the way to this hub to get beaten to the punch.

Conversation commences at the counter between their prize and the pack of goons.

Thor is on his feet in less than thirty seconds. The shoving starts. The punches follow. “Ridiculous,” Rocket sighs.

Groot is already striding through the throng of bystanders making a beeline for the door. His elongated arms yank two of the pack off their prize.

A big walking tree is enough to get even the dumbest thug’s attention. The fracas stops, and the pack spreads and stares.

Rocket sees that their pretty prince is doing alright. He’s pinned to the counter by a fist the size of his head. There isn't a bruise on him from what Rocket can see. Looker and a fighter. Rocket’s favorite kind.

“Listen up, morons,” he says, climbing on one of few tables not overturned in the fray. “This one’s our booty.” He hikes a thumb at their prince. “You got a problem with him? You go through us. Understand?”

Morons never back down when they should.

The fray kicks up in volume. Rocket can’t say he minds. Sure, a quiet job is nice, but every once in awhile he wants to break out his blasters and shoot assholes...literally. Rocket laughs when he catches one goon in the keister.

By his side, Groot's arms turn to sharp spears. He pokes holes where holes shouldn’t be and waves off gunfire like it’s nothing.

Rocket has to hand it to their prince. Thor isn't shabby himself. His fists have the power to fell perps twice his size. The guy dodges bullets and knives. He looks almost bored with the whole thing.

With the final crack of a skull against the counter, they're done. Heavy breaths fill the space - theirs, and the wide eyed barkeep’s who slowly rises from behind the counter. Thor gives the guy a dazzling smile and places three gold coins on the counter. “Another Alderinian Shooter for me, friend. And a refill for Tree and Rabbit here.” His voice has a deep, hoity accent.

Rocket grumbles an incredulous, “Rabbit?”

“I am Groot,” Groot says.

Rocket starts to tell him to shut up, that he’s fine. Surprisingly, their target jumps in. “It’s a scratch, that’s all,” Thor says. That's when Rocket sees Thor's hand braced to the side of his tunic. Threads of red lace between his fingers.

The barkeep delivers their drinks with shaking hands. Thor raises his in a toast. “Thank you, friends,” he says.

Which - yeah no, Rocket and Groot aren’t Thor's friends. They want to rob him, kidnap him, or both. But Rocket isn’t the type to turn down free booze. He toasts his glass and chugs it back. “Holy shit,” Rocket croaks at the burn. Royal tastes must run strong.

“I am Groot,” Groot hums.

“They are tasty, yes,” their target agrees. To Rocket’s gawking face, Thor adds, “They taught Groot where I’m from. It was an elective.”

Enough of this. Rocket scales the one bar stool still standing and climbs up on the counter. The bug-eyed barkeep shrinks away. Good. Rocket grins and cocks his blaster. Then, he turns on their prince. “We know who you are,” Rocket says.

The information doesn’t exactly rattle their target. “I’m sure you do. As do many.”

Rolling his eyes, Rocket punches buttons on his nav system sleeve. A holo picture materializes, fuzzy and blue around the edges. Thor's face looks back at them, round and young and grinning. “You’re Thor,” he says, “Prince of Asgard. Your fam’s looking for you, and they got units on the line.”

“My family?” This earns a surprised eye twitch.

“You seem like a respectable royal brat,” Rocket says. “I like how you fight, and you got good taste in booze. And hey, I'm sure you got reasons for skipping out on mom and pops. So let's say you pony up enough of that princely moolah to match their sum, and we'll say ‘nice knowing ya' and be on our way. Cool?”

“That's not...that's not possible,” Thor says. He looks stunned. He also looks a little pale, and Rocket realizes how red that hand against his side is. Blood drips between his fingers and stains the scuffed floor.

“Shit,” Rocket mumbles. “Some scratch.” The bounty on Thor is definitely not Dead or Alive. A stuck prince won't be worth shit on the market.

And hey, the guy did buy them a drink.

The remaining color drains out of Thor's face. Rocket shouts and gestures wildly.

Before Thor can fall, he's tangled up in vines. Groot gets him knotted up nice and tight. “C'mon,” Rocket grumbles and waves towards the exit. “Let's go patch pretty boy up.”

“I am Groot,” Groot says.

“We are _not_ keeping him,” Rocket snaps. “We keep him breathing long enough to get these loving family units, that's it.”

He peers at Thor's face peeking out from between Groot's flowering branches. Sweat has begun to collect on his forehead. A few drops of blood patter against the floor.

“Gentle, man,” Rocket says, looking at Groot. “Let's keep that juice on the inside where it belongs.”

He expects a smart aleck comment from Groot, but the big guy only nods. When Groot is quiet, it means he's worried. And that he's already getting too attached.

“Fuck,” Rocket mutters. He hikes a thumb towards the door. “Move it, let's go.”

***

Rocket doesn't know Asgardian biology, but the knife doesn't seem to hit anything vital. They clean Thor's wound, stitch, and bandage. Color returns to Thor's face almost immediately.

One thing is for sure, this is far from the first time Thor takes a blade to the gut. His torso is a minefield of puffy white scars and bruises that have faded to sickly green prints. Some of the cuts are new, crusted red lines dried over angry pink swelling skin. The guy's lucky to not be on his deathbed from infection.

Blue eyes blink open, swimming and too shiny. The makeshift cot Thor sprawls on is just a few crates shoved together with spare blankets. With a rough swallow, Thor's gaze shifts in Rocket's direction. “What happened?” he croaks.

“I am Groot,” Groot chimes in from the far side of the cargo hold. He's kept a respectful distance as Rocket cleaned and patched Thor's wound.

Thor skims his side with tentative fingers. He winces when he finds the bandage taped below his ribs.

Rocket, growling, smacks his hand away. “Take it easy. I didn't do all this work to let you wreck it, pal.”

“Yes. I was careless.” Thor continues the trend by sitting up. His face drains of what little color it regained while he was out.

Rocket shoves at his chest. “Where the hell do you think you're going?”

“I am grateful for your help, noble Rabbit.” Thor smiles weakly. “And Tree. Thank you for all you've done for me. But I must keep moving.”

Rocket isn't sure if it's more disconcerting to be called a rabbit or noble. “Uh, you ain't going anywhere. We're holding you for ransom, remember? Reuniting you with your worried fam? Making tons of units in the process?”

It's like he and Thor are speaking different languages.

Thor turns a fond smile on Rocket. “I will never forget this kindness,” he says. “These past few years, I have experienced little in my travels.” Thor scritches fingers between Rocket's ears. The move is so unexpected that Rocket does not remember to bite him.

With a grimace, Thor starts to push himself up. Bewildered, Rocket draws his blaster. “Now, wait a damn minute-”

“I am Groot,” Groot snarls, rising to his full height. If only Groot were mad because their chance at being filthy rich is threatening to walk. Not because Groot likes the guy and doesn't want him hurting himself, the big sap. But hey, beggars can't be choosers.

Groot coils thick vines around Thor arms and legs to hold him in place. Thor clearly doesn't have the strength in him to fight back. After a few half-hearted shoves, Thor lets Groot guide him back to the blanketed crates. “The bounty you seek is a sham,” he mumbles to Rocket.

Rocket frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Thor's head sags against a vine. “I am in exile from Asgard," he says. "My father,” he winces. “He stripped my power from me and cast me from our home. He's dead now. My brother rules in my father's stead, and I am not permitted to return home. My father died ashamed of me. I was not worthy of the throne. I was not worthy of any of it.” He smiles wearily at Rocket. “Forgive me. Years have passed, but I still...” he clears his throat. “So, you see, there is no bounty from my family. If they desired my presence, our great watcher Heimdall could find me across the cosmos. They can open the path for my return whenever they wish, but they never will. It would be a disgrace to my father's legacy.”

This is too much information for Rocket. What is he supposed to do with stories about gods and thrones and watchers and power?

Rocket does know one thing: the anger of being swindled. “You're saying the price on your head is bogus!?”

“Oh, I have no doubt somebody hopes to find me or the way to Mjolnir. I was once a prince of Asgard, our enemies are many. They may not strike against my brother, but they may target me in a misguided attempt to hurt my people.”

“I am Groot,” Groot says.

Thor chuckles. “Without my power, yes. I was careless tonight.” He draws a finger over his bandaged side. His expression turns pensive. “I have often been careless. It is my way, I suppose.”

Rocket catches himself gawking at the movement of Thor's hand. He clears his throat. “What's a mjolnir?” he asks.

Thor explains, “It is a hammer born of the great forge of Nidavellir. My father once said that he who was worthy of the power of Thor would wield it. Mjolnir was my birthright, I believed. It destined me to be a king. But I was a fool, I-” Thor takes a sharp breath. “It doesn't matter.”

“Nidavellir is real?” Rocket's eyes light up.

Thor reacts with a smile of his own. “You know it?”

“Well yeah, that place is a legend! They make the most awesome weapons ever seen in the universe!”

“I am Groot,” Groot adds. He begins to withdraw his vines and branches. Without his support, Thor' sinks into the pillows.

“Yes,” Thor agrees, a wistful softness to his voice. “It would be nice to see it again. One day, perhaps.” He punches a few keys on the wrist controller he wears.

When Thor takes Rocket's hand, Rocket starts to recoil. Until his own forearm nav system blinks on. His eyes widen when the amount of units tied to his name doubles.

“For the burden I've caused you both,” Thor says. He struggles to push himself back to a seated position. “I should be on my way.”

“I am Groot-”

“Stay the night,” Rocket says, cutting off Groot's protests. Thor looks at him with surprise, and even Groot's bark mouth slips open. Embarrassed and scowling, Rocket crosses arms over his chest. “Least we can do is let you sleep off that stinger. And uh, maybe drop you where you're going next.”

Thor shakes his head. “You are gracious, sweet Rabbit, but I-”

“It'd be pretty selfish for a guy to turn down a nice gesture 'cause he's too busy beating himself up about his daddy.”

Thor's expression turns grave, and Groot's mouth drops open wider. Some weird, nervous feeling rattles around in Rocket's gut. “Unless a prince of Asgard's too good to stick around with freaks like us. Right, Groot?”

“I am Groot.” Groot agrees, but he sounds mystified.

Rocket can't tell by Thor's face whether he's more sad, confused, or pissed. Thor nods despite all three emotions. “Alright.”

It's the first halfway decent thing Rocket's done in awhile. He's not sure why he feels like he just won a whole moon.

***

Thor suggests that they drop him in Sector D659. If they leave him at the space hub Tantamount, he can hire out a cruiser and comb the planet clusters in that region.

Thor suggests this with his weight braced against the back of Rocket's captain chair. Groot, in the co-pilot spot, pretends to do a routine switches check. His large black eyes keep scanning back to watch their exchange.

“So, this'll make me sound like a dick, your highness,” Rocket says. “But it's true. Your fam's a bunch of a-holes.” Thor grimaces, but he does not dispute it. “You ever thought to look on the bright side of exile?”

Thor frowns. “I may be unfit to rule, but Asgard is still my home.”

Rocket can't relate. His ‘home’ is the dingy lab where crackpots put his freak body together to get their medical jollies off. This ship is the only real home Rocket has, and Groot's the only real family. Rocket likes it this way. The universe is a piece of shit. The fewer people Rocket cares about, the better.

“Your home doesn’t want you,” Rocket argues. “Why not, I don't know. Find a place you like and lay low for awhile? Why kill yourself trying to find this stupid hammer?”

Thor laughs. “I'm not trying to kill myself-”

“You're asking us to drop you on Tantamount, which is a shithole. And you want to prance around D659 with stitches in your side. Also,” Rocket's eyes narrow, “you're running a fever. I wasn't going to say nothing ‘cause, you know, I don't care. But since we're talking about you being stupid, it’s definitely relevant.”

Groot hums at Rocket and turns his anticipating gaze towards Thor. No doubt, Groot sees what Rocket does - streaks of red on Thor's cheeks and sickly sweat shining on his forehead. It's only been 24 hours since Rocket stitched up Thor's side. Thor may have had god powers once upon a time, but right now he's as fragile as a Terran.

Thor smiles down at Rocket. “You have a large heart, my friend.” Rocket wrinkles his nose in disgust. Beside them, Groot snorts. “I suppose you're right, I could choose to move on from the life I once knew. I may do so after I locate Mjolnir among the stars, but I must know first.”

Rocket frowns. “You must know what?”

“If I am still worthy,” Thor says. A tremor shakes the hands he rests on top of Rocket's seat. “Perhaps I am, perhaps not, but I need to know.”

This whole thing seems crazy, but the meaning of life isn't Rocket's forte. Morons made Rocket because they thought it would be funny. That's it. There is no point to Rocket's life other than to get rich and live it up as long as his monster body holds out.

“I am Groot,” Groot inserts softly.

“Yeah,” Rocket agrees, “sit down before you keel over. You look like crap.” He turns back to the navigation console. “And we ain't dropping you on Tantamount.”

The sharp look Groot gives him happens in tandem with Thor's grip tensing on Rocket's chair. “But," Thor protests, "you said you would-”

“Tantamount sucks. There's no way a fancy god-hammer landed on anything in the D659 sector," Rocket says. "Unless your pops had a shit sense of humor.”

Thor's jaw tightens. “Very well. In that case, set course for Nuvea. It is a quick jump from here, and-”

“We ain't going to Nuvea either,” Rocket says. Thor's face radiates confusion and a fair amount of anger. Rocket ignores both. “You've been searching random systems for the last couple years, right?”

“Yes,” Thor agrees warily. “I admit, it has not been the most sound strategy but-”

“Why not look for a clue where it all started?” At the widening of Thor's eyes, Rocket shrugs. “You said you wanted to see Nidavellir again.”

“I am Groot,” Groot protests.

Thor waves a hand towards Groot. “Exactly!” he agrees. “We're nowhere near Nidavellir. I could never ask you to-”

“Coordinates, man.” Rocket pulls up a new entry on the route chart. Groot twists in his chair to gawk at Rocket.

Thor's mouth moves a few times before he manages sound. “Rabbit, Nidavellir is too far from-”

“Coordinates.” Rocket taps his foot against his seat. Thor stares at him, a part to his stupidly pink lips.

A full minute passes before Thor begins typing their destination into the nav system. “I am not quite as adept around a ship as you,” Thor murmurs, “but I can handle myself. I will do what I can to assist with maintenance and whatever else you need.”

Rocket's eyes widen when he sees the plot Thor types in. Nidavellir is in a quadrant of space Rocket has never even been close to grazing before.

But hey, what good's an adventure if it's all ‘been there done that’? “Good,” Rocket says. “Go sit down before you pop your stitches and make a mess of my ship.”

Thor gives him a look with too much behind it. He's pissed off. Bewildered. And sick, clearly, fever-warmth making his blue eyes shine. Thor is also something else Rocket can't put a name to. Something that hollows his expression but fills it back up with a smile.

Within five minutes of taking a seat, Thor begins to snore.

Within ten minutes, Groot leans over. “I am Groot,” he whispers.

“I told you, we ain't keeping him,” Rocket hisses back. “Pit stop, that’s all. What, you don't want to see a badass weapon-making star forge?”

“I am Groot,” Groot says. He does have a fondness for badass weapons. Especially the kind that blow up.

***

Thor was being modest about knowing how to handle himself around a ship. Turns out, once his fever breaks and his side heals, he’s a pretty good hand to have around.

Until now, Rocket and Groot got by ok. Rocket is a beast with engineering. Give him a set of tools and some parts, and he can configure shit to make whatever they need. Upgrade to the fuel cells? Piece of cake. Rewire faulty comms? Simple. Build a bomb? Rocket’s favorite thing!

But, sometimes his size comes into play. The fact is, ship parts are big. When the engine errors out, Rocket can figure out the problem pretty fast, but trying to fix it is a mess. Rocket isn’t big enough to replace pipes or strong enough to wrench in hytron batteries for the nav display.

Groot helps, but Groot is - well, Groot. He tries to be sure-handed, but that’s hard to do without real hands. A tree can only be so fine trying to bolt in loose fuel cells or lock exhaust pipes into place.

Thor, though, has brawn and the precision to match. He knows his way around a ship’s mainframe. Some of the more technical ins and outs earn blank stares, but he’s a quick study. Rocket only has to explain what he wants done once. After the first week, Thor even starts making suggestions for improvements.

Rocket finds Thor after bolting in the reconfigured filtration core. At first, Rocket made fun of the guy for saying it smelled funny in the cargo bay. Turns out, the filtration back there was shit - could have caught the whole ship on fire if Thor didn't catch it.

Thor looks pleased with his own handiwork. He’s scrubbing the sweat from his brow with a cloth and flashing a wide grin. It’s hot down in the ship’s core, and Thor looks it. His face is glowing, and his bare arms are grimy with grease. His shirt clings to his damp chest and back, and his trousers are low enough to show a sliver of stomach. Rocket scowls on instinct.

“Everything should be in place, Rabbit,” Thor says. With his cloth draped over a shoulder, he rubs a kink out of his neck. Thor has been doing this more and more, showing little signs of discomfort in his shoulders and back. “I’ll be hopping in the refresher for a few minutes if you don’t mind-”

“I was thinking,” Rocket says, without doing much thinking. “Since we got a long ride left, we should look into upgrading our cabin situation.”

Thor tips his head curiously. “In what way?”

“I mean.” Rocket shrugs. “You can’t keep sleeping on some crates shoved together in the cargo bay. That’s stupid.”

“You’ve been most kind with my accommodations, Rabbit. I have no complaints.”

“You’re gonna break your back sleeping like that all the way to Nidavellir,” Rocket says. “When we hit the next outpost, we’ll stop and get you a cot or something. Till then, why don’t we swap?”

“Swap?” Thor asks.

Rocket huffs. Thor is good with ship stuff, but apparently he struggles to understand anything else. “Yeah, one night you take the cargo crates, next night I take the crates, you take my be-”

“No,” Thor says.

Rocket’s eyes narrow. “I’m just saying until we can get you something halfway decent to sleep on.”

“No,” Thor says again. He isn't smiling anymore. “If you want an additional sleeper, at the next hub I will purchase one. Consider it my gift.”

Not that Rocket is one to turn down free shit, but, “I said I would-”

“I will purchase one,” Thor repeats. “Until then, our arrangements stay as they’ve been. I need to clean myself off, excuse me.”

Rocket scowls after Thor storms off. “Royal dick,” he mutters. Royal dick who refuses to sleep in a bed. What a jerk.

***

Rocket has a plan to fix the bed situation. The plan includes getting Thor wasted.

To be fair, this isn't hard to do. Thor claims it’s been years since he lost his powers. By the way Thor treats his body, it seems like it was only yesterday. He’s a crazy bastard in bar brawls, chucking himself at the biggest dude in the room. Thor has a habit of jumping between Rocket or Groot and blaster fire too.

Asgardian royals also like to drink.

On this particular evening, Rocket is the proud owner of a brand new eyeball. Top of the line, fancy gold iris and the latest scanning tech. The guy it belonged to is currently crying and nursing a broken nose thanks to a well-timed fist from Thor.

“He was messing with my friends!” Thor claims. His voice echoes off the ship walls. “No one messes with my friends and gets away with it!” He's pink in the face and staggering, but grinning.

“I am Groot,” Groot chimes in. Stone sober, damn tree. Rocket’s yet to figure out what it would take to get a thing like Groot hammered.

Rocket turns a narrow eye on his tall, barky friend. “I did _not_ steal his eye,” he insists. “I borrowed the thing and forgot to return it. Shit happens.”

Thor jabs an enthusiastic finger in Rocket's direction. “Yes. Shit _does_ happen.” His usually impeccable braids are a mess, loosened into uneven waves. He leans against a wall of the corridor. Sort of. The casual pose devolves into a stumble that nearly sends him head-first into the wall.

Thor catches himself before Groot has to. “I’m quite well, friend," he tells Groot's concerned face. "Tonight is - there’s never _been_ a night like tonight. Isn’t that incredible? All the years, the many centuries of the universe, but there has never been a night like tonight. And I,” he pats Groot’s shoulder, “am spending it with my two best friends.” He grins and gives Rocket...two thumbs up? Or is he trying to finger gun?

Rocket stamps down the urge to roll his eyes. With his most trusting smile, he holds a hand out for Thor. “C’mon, big guy. Let’s move this somewhere more comfortable, huh?”

“You’re - you can’t be thinking about the lounge on Draka.” Thor takes Rocket’s hand between his thumb and forefinger. “If I remember right, they kicked us out of there too.”

This time, Groot does have to catch Thor before he crashes into a wall. Rocket takes a wary step back. Maybe he overdid it on feeding the guy booze. Thor is laughing in Groot's wooden grip. "Bed is an idea. A good. Right.”

“I am Groot,” Groot offers helpfully.

“Right on, Groot,” Rocket agrees. “Bed’s the best idea there is.” He uses the distraction to clamber up and settle on Thor’s shoulder. “Just think.” Rocket hums in Thor’s ear. “It’ll be so nice and warm and soft. Fresh sheets and everything.”

“Mmhm,” Thor agrees. His eyes sink closed, and he buries his face in Rocket’s side. Pleasantly tipsy as Rocket is, the gesture still makes him jump. Thor, oblivious as he’s ever been, noses at Rocket’s clothes. “Nice and warm and soft,” he sighs.

Rocket growls, first at him, then at Groot snorting about the whole thing. “The bed, you idiot,” he snaps. “Groot, make yourself useful.”

Groot makes another amused sound, but as asked he guides Thor’s half-limp body to the overnight room. It houses two pull-out sleepers that stay pulled out permanently. Usually Rocket’s cot is a nest of slept-in sheets. But he was being honest when he said he washed the stupid things. Not that Thor’s drunk ass will notice.

Groot’s cot, by comparison, is always made up. Rocket has never seen the guy use a sheet. He lies on his back, arms and legs hooked over the cot edges. Sometimes, Groot sprouts leaves and flowers and stuff. One time, Groot’s arms were blossoming like a garden in early spring when he woke up. All Groot could say was he had a nice dream.

Thor all but collapses onto Rocket’s cot, and Rocket, on his shoulder, tumbles down with him. Success at last, not that Rocket should care so much about where the guy sleeps.

Before Rocket can claim his victory, he finds himself tangled in a strong arm. Fingers thick and insistent settle against his stomach. From behind, Thor’s face nestles against Rocket's back. Rocket tugs at Thor's hand and looks to Groot for help. Groot only grins and backs away to his own cot.

“Jerk,” Rocket grumbles. He goes back to plucking at Thor’s fingers. “Hey, Thor, let’s move this hand, huh?”

Thor mumbles unintelligibly against his fur. His breath is warm. Rocket can’t suppress the shiver that rolls like loose coins down his spine. “Thor?" He glances over his shoulder. “You awake?”

Thor releases a deep breath. Rocket barely makes out his sleepy, satisfied smile. “Nice and warm and soft,” he hums.

Rocket huffs. “The _bed_ , buddy. The _bed_ , not me.”

“Yes, alright,” Thor agrees. Rocket has no idea what he’s agreeing to. Within a few short minutes, the guy begins to snore against Rocket’s fur.

From the quiet of the bedroom comes a low, “I am Groot.”

“You shut the hell up,” Rocket hisses.

Rocket has escaped from 21 prisons. He can damn sure escape from Thor if he wants. Rocket hasn’t used his nails yet, or his teeth. Last resort? Rocket has a spare blaster under his pillow. It has a stun setting. That would be one hell of a way to wake up.

Rocket doesn't bother with any of his escape plans. Maybe this is better than getting a crick in his neck from those crates. It’s just one night. And hey, at least Thor doesn’t snore so bad.

Rocket closes his eyes and refuses to think about Thor’s fingers on the round of his belly.

***

They’re in this crummy bar on Xina-5, and Rocket is mad.

He’s mad because this Drexilian is accusing him of being a liar and a cheat. Both are, generally speaking, true statements. But on this particular night, Rocket won their game of five-card draw fair and square. He didn’t play any hidden cards or use any other slights of hand. Rocket earned the units haphazardly tossed in the pool by his opponent. He _earned_ them!

Rocket usually laughs off any accusations of being a cheat. It’s only cheating if a guy gets caught, after all. But there was no funny business this time. Rocket won! And this asshole is calling him all kinds of stuff. Rodent. Rat. Sneaky little _weasel_. Rocket wants to blast this asshole where no sun in the universe can shine.

Rocket may have had one too many Xina-tinis. But hey, he’s still standing.

The Drexilian lurches a head and shoulders even above Groot. He’s a big burly thing, moss green and scaled. Rocket's heard that the outer skin on Drexilians is impenetrable. Only way to take one out is to go for the soft bits. Rocket isn’t sure where those are, but his gun itches to find out.

Rocket has two problems: the size of this loser, and the fact that Rocket’s blaster no longer has a clean shot. His line of sight is cut off by Thor’s back and his shiny hair. Despite the height difference, the Drexilian seems to view Thor as more of a threat. The jerk’s lizard yellow eyes narrow.

“Thor, you moron, get outta the way,” Rocket snaps.

Thor, proving himself a moron, stays exactly where he is. “Hello there!” He greets the Drexilian with a grin.

The bar begins to empty of general passers. More hearty bystanders settle in and order another round.

“This rat belong to you?” the Drexilian demands. They're a weird race with two tongues. Syllables hiss from their mouths with too much emphasis.

“Oh, he isn’t a rat, friend,” Thor says. “He’s a rabbit!” Rocket groans, but Thor pays him no mind. “And no, he does not belong to me. By the looks of things, Rabbit gets along quite well on his own. He won how much from you this evening? 20,000?”

“He’s a cheat!” the Drexilian roars. Impressive as Thor is, the Drexilian hoists him off the ground by the shirt like he weighs nothing. A few ‘oohs’ breaks out around the bar. They’ve reached the highlight of their night.

Good and bad news: Xina-5 is a shithole for a reason. It’s got next to no security. The locals handle their own business. No fear of getting locked in a slammer, but there won’t be any calvary to break up a fight. Except for Groot who, realizing the tables are turning, crosses the bar to take his place next to Rocket. His wooden hands ball to fists at his sides.

One nice thing about Drexilians being assholes: the guy is all by his lonesome. Not one single lackey for backup.

“I ain’t no cheat!” Rocket mutters. “Take a lesson before you get all chesty, huh? You had no. shot.”

“None,” Thor echoes cheerily. He’s given a large, body-sloshing shake.

“You let him go,” Rocket growls. He climbs to Groot’s shoulder and cocks his blaster. The gun is even bigger than Rocket.

The Drexilian lets out a booming snarl of a laugh. “So he belongs to you, rat?” From the look on Thor’s face, Rocket can tell the guy’s breath smells...less than pleasant.

Rocket aims. “Hell yeah he belongs to me,” he snaps. “Now let him go.”

“In that case.” The Drexilian’s mouth curls into an ugly, crocodile smile. He glares down at Thor. “I’m going to take my time with this one. Then, rat, you and me will-”

Thor, even with no feet under him, throws a wild punch. It connects with the Drexilian’s jaw and knocks his head to the side. The Drexilian blinks a few times. Thor, still hanging from his fist, shrugs.

The Drexilian punches Thor so hard, Thor breaks through a table a good fifty feet away. It means go-time for Rocket, who roars and starts firing. Blaster shots bounce off the Drexilian’s scales. Even the heartiest of bar-hoppers pick a less front-and-center table. Groot joins the fray with thrown chairs, tables, and one very confused patron.

Thor is too stupid to know when he should stay down, and doubly too stupid to remember that he’s not a god. His attempt to sweep the Drexilian to the ground does not go well. A sharp fist to the ribs sends Thor flying.

The Drexilian falls to his knees seconds later. It turns out that the general sexy region counts as a soft point. Groot finishes the guy off with a chair to the face. Eyeballs, also a soft point. The Drexilian makes the floor splinter when he falls. “Just had those boards waxed,” the bearded barkeep mutters.

Around the bar, patrons crawl from under upended tables and resume their chatter. Apparently it’s not anyone’s first party around here.

“How stimulating!” Thor limps back to Rocket and Groot. He scrubs a drop of blood from his lips. “How dare that fool accuse you of cheating? I _know_ when you cheat, that bout was totally fair!”

“Totally,” Rocket agrees. His drunk brain makes a note to grill Thor about the whole ‘knowing how he cheats’ thing later.

“I am Groot?” Groot suggests, looking between them.

“We can head back to the ship, yeah,” Rocket says. With the ruckus over, he descends Groot’s arm to the floor.

“Or,” Thor suggests, patting Groot’s shoulder. “Another round of Xina-tinis? Such an easy defeat deserves celebration!”

“Easy defeat?” Rocket eyes him. “You got put through two tables.”

“Only two! Quite remarkable given the size of our foe. What do you say? One more round?”

Rocket looks to Groot, who shrugs. “What the hell,” Rocket agrees.

“Yes!” With a wide smile, Thor starts for the bar. But he pauses mid-step, a glance back at Rocket. The excitement leaves his face.

He catches Rocket off guard by bending to one knee. “Uh.” Rocket glances up at Groot, and back at Thor. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“It means a great deal that you would claim me as your own,” Thor says. “You are the truest of rabbits. Thank you.”

By the time Rocket stops gawking, Thor is chatting up the still-not-happy bartender.

Above Rocket’s head, Groot chortles. Rocket turns his flustered ire upward. “Shut your face,” he snarls. Groot is too busy snickering to comply.

***

Good news, Thor is so good at buttering up the old bartender that they get more than one round out of the guy.

Bad news, Thor is so good at buttering up the old bartender that they get more than one round out of the guy.

Rocket was already towing the line between tipsy and shitfaced. He gets to that happy state. Laughs along to Thor telling some bullshit story as Groot eggs him on with increasing gusto. Then Rocket teeters off the edge.

When Rocket blinks into focus, he’s curled on something firm and warm, tail folded over him like a blanket.

“Back on the ship.” Thor’s voice, though quiet, still booms from this proximity. Rocket realizes it’s Thor’s arm supporting his liquor-lax body. “Hello, ship! We missed you terribly during our adventures."

Rocket snorts against Thor's shirt.

“Ah, hello there.” Thor smiles down at Rocket. “Just a few more steps until we reach your chambers. Think of how nice that will be. Your own bed, your own pillow. Wonderful.” Thor has a busted lip and an impressive shiner under his left eye. He has no business looking so hot with both.

Rocket watches sleepily as Thor exchanges words with Groot. He's too out of it to make sense of them. The words slide out of his ears like water down glass. Whatever they say makes Groot hum and Thor laugh. Thor has a nice laugh. Rocket will miss it when they get to Nidavellir and it’s time for Thor to head out on his hammer hunting adventures.

What good is some magic hammer to a guy like Thor? Yeah sure, he was a god before he lost the thing. But Thor is- Thor's fine without some stupid hammer! Groot loves the guy, and even Rocket doesn’t hate Thor as much as he does other idiots.

If Thor wants to stick around, Rocket won't mind. Thor has a ton of cash. He can pay his own way, fix up the ship, and take on stupid Drexilians who get too big for their scales.

Hey, the forge people on Nidavellir may say Thor’s hammer is super close. If it’s not too far out of the way, Rocket and Groot could- well-

Thor would have to chip in more units, but Rocket and Groot can take him to his stupid hammer. Why should Thor pay some cheap-ass ship passage when he can pay Rocket and Groot instead?

Thor smiles down at Rocket. “Look, Rabbit, it’s your bed! Nice and warm and soft, don’t you remember?” His big hands are ultra-gentle laying Rocket on the sheets. “There you are. Goodnight, my friend. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Before Thor can go, Rocket grabs a fistful of his shirt. “You’re not leaving,” he says.

Another stupid, pretty laugh. “I am, I’m afraid,” Thor tells him. “Only until morning.”

Rocket shakes Thor's shirt angrily, because Thor isn’t understanding. Thor never understands! He’s too big and hot and stupid. And that’s great, it’s nice that he’s big and hot and stupid. But Rocket has a _plan_ now. He’s going to make Thor’s thick head get it.

“You’re not leaving,” Rocket insists. “You’re- I figured it out. You’re staying with me. And,” he hiccups, “and Groot. You’re gonna stay right here. Because I say so.”

A curious smile answers Rocket’s declaration. It makes the bruise bunch on Thor's cheek. “There won’t be much room,” Thor says.

“Fuck room,” Rocket growls. “You’re. Staying. Here. Did I say it slow enough for ya? Do you- d’you need me to sound it out? You’re. Ours. So you ain’t leaving. Suck on _that_.” Thor blinks down at him.

After a quiet moment, Thor begins the gentle process of trying to ease Rocket’s fist off his shirt. Rocket bares his teeth in warning, but Thor only smiles. “Peace, friend,” he says. “I’m not leaving.”

“You’re _not_ ,” Rocket agrees with an emphatic finger to Thor’s chest. “You ain’t going _nowhere_.”

“I’m disrobing, that’s all.”

With an impatient huff, Rocket lets go of Thor’s shirt. Thor is true to his word. Standing above Rocket, Thor first kicks out of his shoes, then peels his shirt over his head. A bluish purple bruise discolors his ribcage. Vaguely, Rocket remembers that the Drexilian drove Thor through a table. No, two tables. “Fuck you,” Rocket mumbles. Stupid Thor. Put through two tables. “Fuck your shirt,” he adds through a chest-heaving yawn.

“Yes,” Thor agrees. He gazes down at Rocket with a pensive look. A moment later, he’s peeling his pants down. His shorts sit low on his hips, showing a hint of the deep grooves angling down towards his crotch.

“Fuck your pants,” Rocket throws in.

Thor looks surprised, then laughs. “Yes, this is much better.”

He is careful as he navigates the thin mattress to spread himself at Rocket’s side. Rocket blinks at Thor in his bed. Shirtless, pantless Thor. This is different from the other time, when Thor was drunk off his ass. This close, without any fabric in the way, Rocket smells the heat radiating off Thor.

Rocket tips his head back and takes a nostril-flaring sniff. “Mmm,” he says. “You’re in my bed.”

“I am,” Thor says, frowning. “Is that not… I thought you wanted this?”

Rocket has no idea what Thor is talking about. But he doesn’t blame Thor for being in his bed. The crates in the hangar bay suck. “Fuck those crates,” he grumbles.

“Yes,” Thor agrees. He muffles his own yawn between pressed lips. “This is rather comfortable.”

Of course it is. Thor is stupid for sleeping on those crates even after Rocket told him to swap nights with the cot. Thor should know he’s stupid. Telling him seems like a great idea.

Rocket glares at Thor with as much anger as he can muster. Which isn’t much, Rocket is a few blinks away from blacking out. “You,” Rocket snarls. “No more crates. From now on, you’re with me.”

Thor sighs. “Rabbit-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Rocket snaps. He sticks a finger into the hollow of Thor’s collar. “You’re with me. I don’t care. Fuck you.”

With a smile, Thor brushes lips to the back of Rocket’s hand. Warm, messy feelings slosh around in Rocket’s belly.

Thor lets go of Rocket and closes his eyes. It’s Rocket’s cue to close his eyes as well. He can’t even count to ten before everything fades out.

***

When Rocket opens his eyes, the room teeters around like an unstable see-saw. Rocket's head is _pounding_ , it's the kind of headache that makes his eyeballs throb.

When he opens his eyes, he’s met with a weird sight. It’s not the usual wall, gray and a little scuffed. When he opens his eyes, he sees an expanse of smooth skin. Blonde hair fanned over shoulders. A quiet snore rumbles between parted lips.

Thor sleeps with a hand curled over his belly. A purpling bruise swells under his left eye, and another one big as a roll of work tape colors his ribcage.

Rocket has no idea why Thor is in his bed. But as drunk as Rocket was, it makes sense that Thor would be a little off too. Rocket is the invalid here, though. He gives Thor’s arm a shove.”Hey, your majesty,” he grumbles. “Make yourself useful and get me something from the pill box, will ya?”

“Hm?” Thor is one of those jerks who wakes up hot. It’s a different kind of hot than when he’s dressed and out of bed, something softer and more open. A momentary crease folds between his brows as he takes in his surroundings. First the ceiling, the walls, the bed, and finally Rocket.

To Rocket’s surprise, Thor isn’t startled to find himself in Rocket’s bed. He smiles instead, only breaking to yawn against his shoulder. “Good morning,” he rasps. “How are you?”

“Pill box,” Rocket mumbles.

He blinks when a cacophony of colorful pills lands on the mattress between himself and Thor. Rocket looks up at Groot hovering above them. The big guy is grinning.

“Thanks, man,” Rocket mutters. “Now get lost. You’re too happy.” Groot snickers but wanders off at Rocket’s direction.

Rocket fishes through his medicinal option. He decides on two pinks. For whatever reason, the pinks seem to go well with his head stuff.

“Headache?” Thor asks.

Before Rocket can give him an enlightening answer like ‘no shit, moron,’ he finds his head greeted by a kiss. It’s brief, but it’s warm and soft between his ears.

Rocket blinks at Thor’s chest, then up at his face. “You-”

“It’s still early,” Thor tells him. He lets his eyes close. “We don’t have to clear out for another few hours. Get some sleep.”

Get some sleep with Thor lying in his bed? Easier said than done. As wobbly as Rocket’s brain is, he still smells the warmth radiating off Thor. His skin has a sweet scent, something that makes Rocket anxious. “Right,” Rocket grumbles, closing his eyes. “I forgot. You got put through two tables. Idiot.”

Thor chuckles. “Only two, my friend. I’ve had worse nights.”

***

It’s a productive day. They pull out from Xina-5 without incident and get back on course. A few switches need rewiring by the generator. Rocket talks Thor through it. Thor, like Groot, now gets what Rocket wants the first time he says it. Work that was taking a couple hours before they got used to each other wraps up now in two.

Thor likes having stuff to do. On slow days, he trains or sits behind Rocket and Groot in the cockpit with a brooding frown. More than once, Rocket tells him to get lost if he’s got nothing useful to add. He hates the feel of Thor’s eyes ticking along with every unit of space they cross to Nidavellir. It’s like he can’t wait to be off this ship and move on with his fancy god-prince life.

The day after Xina-5, Thor has things to do, and he performs his tasks with a grin on his face. The bruise under his eye calms to a sickly yellowish-green. It plumps out like an unripe fruit whenever he laughs.

Afterwards, Thor announces that he’s off to use the refresher. Things with skin like Thor need constant maintenance. It’s dumb and exhausting. Thor spends so much time bathing, soaping his hair, or combing it out. Rocket takes showers too, but he’s in and out super quick. His fur doesn’t need much to keep clean. Besides, too much water is bad for all the metal joints holding his gross body together.

With the navigation set on auto, Rocket retires to bed. Groot is already sprawled out. He bids goodnight with his usual hum.

Yawning, Rocket closes his eyes, back to the door.

Light from the hallway makes him crane his head back. He blinks at Thor when Thor enters, a pillow tucked under his arm. His hair, still drying, is tied back. Its damp ends shift between his shoulders.

Thor stops beside Rocket’s bed. Rocket squints up at him. “What are you doing?” he asks.

Seems like a pretty basic question, but something about it makes Thor frown. “Oh," he says slowly. "I thought you might not remember. That’s alright.” He nods to Rocket. “Goodnight, my friend. I’ll see you in the-”

“You want to stay here?” Rocket asks.

“It’s not important, truly. I’ll see you-”

“Wait.” Rocket tries to scan back through his drink-hazy memories. This would at least explain why he woke with Thor in his bed. Rocket can’t remember what he told Thor last night, but he remembers the smell on him. That warm, soft scent that stirred good feelings in Rocket’s gut.

It’s a bad idea. Rocket isn’t used to being smacked in the face with stuff he wants but can’t have. When Rocket wants something, he takes it. End of story.

If the opportunity presented itself, yeah, Rocket would want Thor. But Thor isn’t something he can steal or keep. All this arrangement will do is rub Rocket’s face in something he should get out of his head.

Apparently willpower isn’t something Rocket’s makers gave him much of. “Stay,” Rocket says. “Just don’t crush me.”

Thor has the nerve to look surprised. “Are you sure?” he asks.

“Did I stutter?” Rocket snaps. “Get your royal ass down here.” He screws his eyes shut before he has to see Thor’s reaction. The whole point of this is to sleep. Just sleep. Anything else would be stupid. Something like Thor with something like him. Stupid as stupid gets.

Thor does his best to keep to one side of the cot, but he’s five times as big. It takes some shifting and grumbling for Thor to fit his pillow alongside Rocket’s. Thor exhales when his back flattens against the mattress. When Rocket peeks, he’s smiling. “Keep it down,” Rocket mumbles.

Thor’s smile cracks wider, showing teeth. “Apologies,” he says. He glances at Rocket, eyes dancing. Rocket would bite Thor's lip red if he could.

With a huff, Rocket squeezes his eyes shut again.

***

Something changes. Rocket can’t figure it out.

For one, Thor’s whole demeanor in the cockpit does a 180 turn. His spells of brooding seem to disappear. Exuberance replaces them. Rocket finds it aggravating. Groot seems to love it. He and Thor run off on all sorts of topics. Thor tells Groot about the first time he first met one of Groot’s kind. Groot tells Thor about how he and Rocket first met, or details about his home that even Rocket didn’t know.

Sometimes, Rocket catches Thor looking at him. “I spill something or what?” Rocket demands on more than one occasion.

Thor always laughs off his bluster. “Oh no,” he says, reclining in his seat. “You’re looking quite well.”

Rocket both anticipates and dreads the overnight hours. He’d hoped there would be something about Thor that would gross him out. Drooling on a pillow. Nasty breath.

Thor does snore. Rocket clings to the annoyance of that for awhile. But even Thor’s snoring isn’t too bad. Big as he is, he’s got the lung power to buzzsaw Rocket’s eardrums into oblivion. Instead, Thor’s snores are a dull rumble, all nose. He sleeps on his back, chin sinking towards one shoulder through the night. His cheeks get all rosy, and every once in awhile his hands twitch.

Thor sleeps without a shirt or pants on. He covers his bare legs with a sheet. His chest, he lets hang out like he can’t sleep without his pores drinking up the filtered ship air. Rocket, meanwhile, wears a lighter cotton version of his flight suit to bed. His arms are bare and free, but it keeps most of the bolts on his chest and back covered.

Sometimes Rocket wakes up with one of Thor’s big-ass hands against his back. His fingers have a way of digging themselves into the tuff of Rocket’s neck. Rocket wakes up plenty of times hard as a rock in his flight suit, the scent of Thor flooding his nostrils. These nights, Rocket is careful as he detangles himself from Thor. He has to spend more time in the refresher than usual calming his body under cold water.

Other days, Rocket wakes with Thor's lips between his ears. “Sleep well?” Thor’s voice rumbles through his fur.

“Would’ve slept better if someone didn’t wake me up with their mouth-breathing,” Rocket grumbles.

This, Thor takes as another reason to chuckle. “Forgive me,” he says. His next kiss presses between Rocket’s shoulders. Sleep-lax as Rocket is, he still has to bite back a groan.

Mercifully, Thor rises before Rocket can be further humiliated. Rocket refuses to watch him, sleep-warm and half naked. “I’ll be in the refresher,” Thor says. “Would you care to join me?”

“Shut the hell up,” Rocket snarls. Thor’s laugh echoes through his ears long after he departs.

It’s like they’re playing some game that Rocket doesn’t get the rules of. Thor cares about him and Groot, Rocket gets that much. Thor has an ego on him, but he’s not trying to be an asshole.

Rocket wonders what exactly ‘rabbits’ are to rich royal brats on Asgard. Maybe they’re pets. Little things big strong gods can kiss and pet and play with to their heart’s content. Rocket isn't some former-god’s plaything. Every touch, smile, or kiss makes Rocket even angrier.

Thor, stupid as he is, can’t seem to catch a hint.

“I’m a mess,” Thor greets one day. It’s true, Thor is sweaty and gross, hair and clothes sticking to his skin. “Without my power, my body needs such work to keep its strength. Things I could do with ease before are such a struggle now.”

“Yeah,” Rocket grumbles. “Sure looks like you were struggling.”

By Thor's grin, Rocket can’t tell if he picks up on the sarcasm or not. “I need to rinse off,” Thor says. “Care to join me?” He arches a brow with now familiar playfulness.

Rocket will show him. He cocks his head with a sly grin. “Yeah, sure.” Bluff called.

It’s no surprise when Thor’s smile falls. “Truly?”

“You bet,” Rocket chirps. “Didn’t see that coming, huh?”

“I didn’t,” Thor admits. He stares at Rocket, a swallow masking what Rocket is sure must be disgust. “Alright then.”

Bad idea, very bad, but Rocket is at the height of his anger. If Thor wants to keep up this game of chicken? Fine. Two can play. Rocket motions down the hall. “After you, your majesty,” he says.

Thor looks at Rocket, his smile softened by curiosity. With a nod, he leads the way to the refresher.

When Rocket picked out this ship, he had his own interests in mind. A thing like him doesn’t need some huge, fancy wash room. Groot keeps his hygiene others ways. Too much water makes the guy sprout mold. It looks gross and is, according to Groot, ‘not fun.’

There’s a corner for waste, a sink, and a small mirror. A crack splits the glass of the mirror in half, Rocket punched it at the perfect angle one night. The shower is a little square stall against the wall. Lights flicker in the refresher. The gray tiles make the room feel even smaller.

Rocket waits for Thor to admit that this whole thing was a joke. Last thing Thor must want is to see a thing like Rocket sopping wet with no clothes on.

Thor smiles down at Rocket once the door is locked behind them. He peels off his shirt. The effect is different than when they share a cot at night. Hot as Thor’s body is, it’s pretty innocuous when they’re turning in for sleep. Now, the shine of sweat on Thor accentuates his every muscle. He looks like something cut out of diamond.

Overheated as Thor is from training, it takes him a minute to peel out of his pants and shorts. The fabric doesn’t want to let go of his legs. It snags on his thighs and clings to the sweat-slick grooves of his knees. His cock, though soft, makes Rocket’s mouth go dry. He’s huge even unaroused.

“Care to join me?” Thor asks.

Rocket huffs and turns away. “Go ahead,” he says. “I’ll catch up.”

“Oh.” Thor’s smile fades. “Alright.”

It should be a relief when Thor turns his back and gets the water going, but it’s not. Thor’s shoulders are thick and strong. His back has such a smooth curve, Rocket wants to use his spine for a hammock. His ass swells out, muscular and begging for bites.

Thor has all this, and what does Rocket have?

Yeah, Rocket has this ship. He’s got his smarts, his wits, his nav skills, his tech know-how. But he doesn’t have what Thor has. Rocket is stupid to try to one-up a guy like him. This is a mistake.

“It’s tight in here,” Rocket calls over the water. “I'll come back later.”

He waits longer than expected for a reply. The room fills with the pitter-patter of water hitting tile and steam. When Thor does answer, it’s without bothering to stick his head back out from the shower door. “I understand,” he says.

At least Thor does Rocket the solid of not laughing with Rocket still in the room. Embarrassed and pissed off, Rocket leaves Thor to clean himself in peace.

***

That night, Thor comes to bed in a t-shirt and a pair of long cotton pants.

After the refresher incident, Thor is quiet. No surprise, Rocket is quiet too. Rocket is quiet because if he attempts to speak he’s going to fly off the handle. Deep down, Rocket knows that isn’t fair to Thor. Thor was being stupid, what else is new. But Thor isn’t one of those assholes who calls Rocket a rat or a rodent. He’s not a bad guy, he’s just - the way he jokes around isn't cool.

To be fair, it’s not Thor’s fault Rocket is what he is. Thor grew up around drop dead gorgeous Asgardians. The idiot doesn’t know how to joke around with things who may take his fake come-ons personally.

Thor climbs onto the mattress without a word. His cheeks are rosy, and a few drops of sweat dot his brow. Rocket raises a brow. “You ok?”

“Of course,” Thor says. He keeps his eyes closed.

The brush off rankles Rocket. “Good,” he mutters. “If you were sick, I’d quarantine you on the crates. I ain’t getting no bloodburn from you, buddy.”

He doesn’t expect Thor to look so hurt.

After a tight swallow, Thor glances away. “I can...return to the crates if you would rather I not-”

“ _Are_ you sick?” Rocket demands. He takes in the red rimming Thor’s eyes. Put that, his warm face, and all the extra layers together....

Thor frowns. “I don’t think so, no,” he says.

“Then shut the hell up about the crates,” Rocket growls.

Thor does. In fact, Thor shuts up about everything. With his eyes closed, he turns, back facing Rocket. The guy never sleeps on his side. Thor must still be mad like Rocket. Rocket doesn’t know what he’s got to be mad about though, looking like he does.

Whatever. Rocket is too tired for this. Glaring out into the darkness, Rocket pretends to sleep. He finds himself counting every single one of Thor's breaths.

***

It takes five more months for them to reach Nidavellir.

Luckily, as time passes, Rocket’s anger becomes something manageable. A little murmur of discomfort in the back of his brain that only grumbles about Thor once in awhile.

Fact is, there are too many stupid things in the universe for Rocket to stay mad at Thor. Thor is a fact of life. He’s something Rocket wants but can’t have. He’s royalty. An ex-god. Next to scummy lowlifes or two-faced thieves, Thor is who Rocket wants by his side in a fight. He’s still strong, confident, helpful, and funny. Despite everything, Rocket likes having Thor around.

Whatever wall Thor puts up after their failed game of chicken crumbles in its own time. It’s a gradual softening. One day, Thor is smiling more. The next, he’s baiting Rocket into a playful argument about heat sensors. They get into their fair share of rest stop brawls. Thor is always right by Rocket’s side.

Eventually, Thor sheds his temporary habit of sleeping in clothes too. It takes a few weeks before Thor gets rid of his shirt before bed. When he does, it’s because the temperature regulator is down and the ship is a damn furnace.

“You won’t mind?” Thor asks, t-shirt half-peeled off.

Even Rocket, who always sleeps clothed, strips off the top half of his flight suit so it won’t stick to his heat-caked fur. “Why the hell would I mind?” he asks.

That night, Thor still manages to sleep with pants on. The next night, the regulator still in shambles, Thor’s pants meet the same fate as his shirt. He breathes heavier than usual overnight, gulping down humid air. Rocket wakes with his mouth tasting like sandpaper.

At the next station, they get the regulator fixed, but Thor doesn’t go back to dressing for bed. Rocket finds himself glad. As much as Thor’s skin is a nightly tease, Rocket misses the warmth of Thor’s scent. There’s something nice about that one last deep breath before drifting off to sleep. This is all Rocket will ever get. He decides he's ok with it.

***

Rocket jumps when their navigation tracker beeps. They will reach Nidavellir within the next twelve hours.

Rocket knew they were close, but they’ve been on this trek so long he just...got used to the journey.

Closing in on five hours, Rocket can’t take his eyes off the nav screens. Groot leans forward in his seat, eyes plastered to the front shield. Pure white light breaks up the blackness of space. There are metal rings around the star, spanning out like the blades of a fan. Nidavellir is pure energy in the center of its dwarf-made harness.

“It’s how the forges are lit,” Thor explains of the rings. He leans against the top of Rocket’s seat. “The dwarves are quite the masters of energy conduction. The vision needed to create such a mechanism is almost impossible to believe.” A wistful smile lights his face.

“Yeah,” Rocket agrees quietly, “it's hard to believe alright.” He can’t take his eyes off the warm glow of the star. It’s like Nidavellir is welcoming them in.

***

Rocket isn’t sure what he expected when Thor told them dwarves run Nidavellir’s forges. He’s never seen a dwarf before, but everything Rocket heard and read made him think they’d be a lot smaller. Turns out, dwarves next to Thor look like Thor next to Rocket.

The leader of this whole thing is a guy named Eitri. He has bushy dark hair and a beard to match.

When Eitri sees Thor, he booms Thor's name like his lungs are the size of caverns. Even Thor’s boisterous, “Eitri! My friend!” seems a whimper in comparison.

Eitri scoops Thor off his feet with ease. They embrace; or, Thor tries to get an arm around the dwarf while the dwarf tries not to squeeze the life out of Thor.

Dwarves of Eitri’s size or larger trudge by with materials of all shapes and weights. Rocket spies metals he has never seen before. Hammers hitting steel form the pulse of Nidavellir.

Groot follows Rocket’s gaze with just as much interest. He has his preference for weapons of the kaboom variety, but the metalwork is impressive. Even Groot is captivated.

“Strange tales find us from your homeland, Thunderer,” Eitri says. He sets Thor back on the ground with care. “You were reported missing from Asgard many years ago. We believed you dead.”

“It hasn't been so long as all that,” Thor tells him, smiling. He has to crane his head to meet Eitri’s eyes. Now he knows how Rocket feels talking to him. “It’s an unfortunate story. One of my own making. But first.” He waves a hand in Rocket and Groot’s direction. “My loyal companions and dearest friends. Rabbit and Tree.”

Rocket stomps out the urge to roll his eyes. He doesn’t quite succeed when Groot stands tall and answers with a gruff, “I am Groot.” It’s the most formal Rocket has ever heard the guy sound.

Formalities must be a thing for these fancy types. “The honor is mine," Eitri says, nodding. "A friend of Prince Thor is always welcome on this rig.”

Sadness turns Thor's smile hesitant. “It’s not ‘prince’ anymore, Eitri. Part of that unfortunate story I promised you. I am in exile from Asgard. Stripped of my name and all titles. Word may not have reached your corner yet, friend, but I owe you the truth. I am as good as dead in the eyes of my house. You have every right to turn us away for bringing this shame upon your great star.”

“What are you, nuts!?” Rocket blurts. They came all this way to find Thor’s stupid hammer, and now he’s offering to leave?

“Thor,” Eitri says. To speak to Thor intimately, his chin tucks to his chest. “I can’t say I understand. But you are welcome among our company. Asgard has protected Nidavellir and protects us still."

“I am not of Asgard,” Thor says. He’s ashamed, Rocket can tell by how he turns from Eitri's gaze. Something wells in Rocket’s chest. He wants to grab Thor by the shirt and shake him until he snaps out of it.

Eitri shakes his head. “Asgard is not a place, boy. As these wounds heal, you will learn.”

Thor frowns, but Eitri moves on to other matters. There is a feast to prepare in honor of their guests.

As Eitri’s proclamations spread, work on Nidavellir slows to a crawl. Dwarves crowd around these three small new companions. They gawk especially at Groot and Rocket. A few even kneel to get a closer look at the furball no bigger than their forearm.

Rocket shrinks away from their stares. He wishes he'd gone with his gut and brought a blaster with him. It could have been a small one. Something to scare away the locals, that's all.

Thor takes to being the oddity like a professional. He goes around shaking hands and thanking all for their kindness and welcome. He smiles. He laughs. His half-braided hair bounces between his shoulders as he moves from person to person. Thor asks names and compares muscles to roared amusement.

Thor sure looks like a prince to Rocket. The sight makes Rocket's shoulders sink.

To distract himself, Rocket strolls over to Eitri. To make eye contact, Rocket has to tip his head back so far he feels the strain in his neck.

“So,” he says, “you all make some badass weapons, huh?”

“Some would say,” Eitri replies.

Rocket smiles. “Any chance me and my man Groot can get a friend-of-royalty discount?”

With an arched brow, Eitri looks between Rocket and Groot. “I am Groot,” Groot adds, and he offers a wide wooden grin.

Shaking his head, Eitri walks away.

Rocket scowls at Groot. “Ok, that grin? Creepy as shit. You cost us a badass star-weapon, you idiot!”

“I am Groot,” Groot sniffs. He leaves him to join Thor in the middle of the throng of dwarves.

“Why the hell should I pay full price?” Rocket shouts after his back. “I ain’t cheap. Stupid tree.”

***

Rocket has hand it to the dwarves on one thing. It’s a damn good feast.

He would have thought food options on Nidavellir would be next to nothing. After all, it's a glorified junkyard in the middle of space. But the meal is legit. There’s baked stuff. Broiled stuff. Sweet and savory stuff. And there’s booze. Lots of booze. Booze Rocket’s never seen before, and he’s seen pretty much every hub between here and Contraxia.

“Import,” the dwarf Heiga tells Rocket when met with his slew of questions. She has a long crooked nose and a wart above her lip, and she seems awfully proud of Nidavellir’s trade business.

Rocket fills his belly until he slumps over, groaning in pleasure. Then, he washes it all down with a couple rounds of what’s-this-eh-I’ll-take-it. It’s on the third drink, feeling warm under the fur, that Rocket can admit to himself that he likes these dwarves.

They’re joined by 50 of Eitri’s kind for dinner, but he says 300 dwarves total live on this rig. They rotate in shifts to keep the forges lit at all times. The weapons market is lucrative, if the import business is any indication. But Eitri is proud of Nidavellir’s reputation for only building for vetted buyers.

“We have no interest in being the tools of a war where we have no foe,” he says. Seems awful cute for their business, but after a few drinks Rocket lets himself buy the idealism.

Thor and Eitri exchange happy memories of the last time Thor visited Nidavellir. He was younger then, about Rocket’s height, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the neutron star. “The fire of this great star lit the Thunderer’s eyes long before the storm,” Eitri tells Groot and Rocket.

Rocket has no idea what this means, but Thor laughs along. Thor’s cheeks are rosy with drink and good conversation. As the hours drag, he too sinks into his seat, a satisfied hand on his belly.

As the hours lengthen, their party dwindles. A few remaining blacksmiths marvel at Groot’s ability to sprout or retract his wooden limbs. “It will be a worthy weapon that bears your wood for its handle, friend,” a young dwarf named Boja says.

Rocket doesn’t like this, sounds like someone looking to use his best friend for parts. But Groot puffs up in his seat. With a solemn nod, he says, “I am Groot.”

The conversation between Eitri and Thor grows more subdued as the hour grows late.

“You are worthy in my eyes, Thor,” Eitri says. “But I worry for you. Even a star system away, Mjolnir should sing. You should feel its call in your bones.”

Thor nods, arms folded over his chest. “If I’m worthy, Mjolnir will answer me,” he says. “If not, I will never feel the great power of Asgard through my veins again. I’m prepared for that disappointment, Eitri. The greater pain will be to have my questions unanswered.”

Eitri nods slowly and sips from his mug. “Have your travels ever led you to Midgard?” he asks.

Thor frowns. “Midgard? No, never.”

“What’s a midgard?” Rocket asks.

“I believe you would know it as Earth,” Thor says.

Vaguely rings a bell. Rocket arches a brow. “You mean C-53?”

“I am Groot,” Groot chimes in, overhearing.

“Terrans, yeah,” Rocket says. “Riddled with ‘em. I've heard the place is in the damn stone age. Tech’s gotta be at least a few cycles behind the universal standard. There's nothing of use on C-53.”

Thor nods at his assessment. Eitri, though, hums under his breath. “Nothing of use for ravagers and thieves,” he says.

Groot frowns, and Rocket bristles. “Hey now,” he grumbles, “we ain’t no ravagers. Me and Groot are professionals! Thor’ll tell you.”

“They are the best,” Thor agrees, smiling. “My dearest friends in the whole universe. I would be lost without them.”

Rocket rolls his eyes. “That’s a little much.”

“I owe them my life,” Thor continues. His gaze falls on Rocket, soft and sincere. It makes Rocket want to bury himself under their feasting table.

“I am Groot,” Groot says, holding a meaningful hand to his chest.

“Y’all are disgusting,” Rocket grumbles.

Eitri chuckles behind another sip of his drink. “True as this all may be, I would wager that you would find something of use for yourself on Midgard, Thor.”

Thor’s attention snaps back to him. “Mjolnir is on Midgard?” Eitri does not nod, but he does give Thor a smile. “Why would my father pick Earth of all places?” Thor wonders, brow furrowed. “It is a realm my people have not visited since before my birth 1500 years ago.”

Rocket gawks at him. He has to have heard that wrong, but...1500 years ago!?

“I dare not speak for Odin All-Father,” Eitri says, “but Midgard may be overdue for a visit.”

“I only hope it’s what he would still want,” Thor says. “I shamed him so much in life, Eitri. With every move I make, I worry that I disgrace his memory further.”

Eitri wants to say something, Rocket can tell. He looks at Thor with a furrow across his wide brow. There’s something he isn’t spitting out. Something Rocket wants to shout at him to say already.

“I do not welcome disgraces at my table, Odinson.” A smile plays at Eitri’s lips. “I trust you won’t insult me again while you’re still enjoying my wine.”

Thor laughs, and the light returns to his face. “The dwarves have proven themselves to be generous, as always.”

A round of cheers rises around their table.

***

“We’ll take you,” Rocket says. He’s doing his best not to sound too drunk to have this conversation. But in the back of his mind, he knows he’s too drunk to have this conversation.

Thor lies beside him on their bunk. Without his shirt in the way, Rocket sees the warmth flushing from Thor’s cheeks down to his throat. Thor is clearly tipsy, happy, and trying to appear less of both.

“You won’t,” Thor says, smiling at Rocket. “You’ve already taken me too far. Eitri has a team heading to the Nubarian sector for trade in three days. From there, passage to Midgard will be cheap and painless.”

“Cheap and painless?” Rocket snorts. “Who’s gonna give you cheap, painless passage to C-53? It’s a shithole. No half-respectable ship wants to go there.”

Thor turns to face Rocket, all that sunny skin and muscle on display. “All the more reason for us to part ways now, my friend. I’ve taken you and Tree too far from your intended path already.”

Rocket shrugs. “Plans change. And I don’t like how quick you are to hand cash that should be ours to some randos on Nubar. Why not shoot me more units to take you, and we’ll call it a day. Cool?”

Thor frowns. “If you are short on funds-”

“Shut up,” Rocket grumbles. “Point is, we’ve already got you this far. I wanna see what this stupid hammer looks like. Plus, let’s say you pick the thing up. Get your god mojo back. You gotta celebrate something like that, right? Who the hell you celebrating with if you dump us, huh? Some ass-backwards Terrans? The scumbags you pick up on Nubar?”

Thor chuckles, and his eyes shift. He's weakening. “It is not far from here, is it?” he asks.

“Quick jump,” Rocket says. “Two weeks tops.”

“In that case, alright.” Thor smiles and scritches Rocket's head in thanks. Rocket never seems to remember to bite him on time. “You are the truest of rabbits,” he says. “Whatever you need from me in return, it’s yours.”

Rocket makes a thoughtful sound. “Convince your dwarf buddy to give us something cool before we leave.”

Thor arches a brow. “Such as?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Something cool! Preferably something that blows up. Groot likes shit that blows up.”

“Unbelievable.” But Thor is laughing, a twinkle in his eyes. “Yes, alright. Something...cool. I can do that.”

He looks happy. Not that Thor doesn’t look happy most of the time, but this is different. Thor has his answers now. The thing he’s been searching for all these years is only two weeks away. A weight is off Thor’s shoulders. His journey is almost over.

The sight makes Rocket’s chest hurt.

“You better,” Rocket says, smirking to cover himself. “Don’t forget, we got two weeks between here and C-53. You cross us, Groot’ll dump your ass in an airlock, no questions asked.”

“Noted,” Thor says.

Rocket blinks at the press of Thor’s lips between his ears. It’s so sudden, no warning given. “Thank you,” Thor murmurs. The shiver of his voice warms Rocket’s fur.

With Thor bowed so close, Rocket can tuck his snout against Thor’s neck. Rocket takes a deep breath of him, nostrils scrunched against Thor’s skin. His senses fill with Thor - the sun-kissed cleanness of his scent and a hint of sweetness from the wine.

Rocket hums. _Good_ , he thinks. This is good, and he likes good things. Rocket’s tongue pokes out for a taste. Sensation crashes through Rocket like high tide. Thor tastes like salt on showered skin.

It takes Rocket a moment to register Thor’s balled hand against his back. Rocket tips his head to nose at the stubbly underside of Thor’s jaw. Thor makes a quiet sound, breathy and surprised. Rocket likes it. His tongue flicks out in approval.

Thor's laugh doesn't sound quite right. “I agreed to your terms, Rabbit. I do not require convincing.”

“That what I’m doing?” Rocket asks slowly. “Being convincing?”

He nibbles on Thor’s neck before Thor can respond. His tendons are ridiculous, thick against Rocket’s snout. He has to open his mouth wide to get one between his teeth. A strangled sound spills off Thor's lips like dropped ale.

“You’ve had too much, my friend,” Thor says softly. Rocket lifts his head back further. Thor’s face is so pretty and pink.

Maybe Rocket did have too much. Maybe this is all in his head. “I don't know, I'd say I had just enough,” Rocket tells him. “How ‘bout you?”

Thor’s fingers comb down to bury in the tuff of Rocket's neck. Rocket’s eyes roll back. Sensation sizzles on every inch of Rocket’s body. His flight suit tents out embarrassingly in the crotch. From one touch. One damn touch.

Thor stares at Rocket. “But,” he sounds mystified, “I thought-”

“That’s why you shouldn’t think,” Rocket tells him. “You’re too stupid for it. Now you gotta stick with us till C-53. We let you go, who knows what’ll happen to you between here and there. Idiot.” He grins. “You’re such a moron, you thought- you really thought-”

Rocket’s words end in a choke. Thor’s mouth is on the crotch of his flight suit. No warning, just - cool, yeah, Thor is mouthing at Rocket’s dick. Cool, totally normal.

Thor’s lips curl around the bulge in the fabric. Even with clothes in the way, Rocket marvels at how huge Thor is. It would be so simple to get lost in Thor’s mouth. To forget how to speak, to think, to breathe.

“I am rather stupid sometimes, aren’t I?” Thor muses. He punctuates the question with his tongue, dragged between Rocket’s legs at a torturous pace.

“Fuck you,” Rocket breathes.

Thor has been part of their crew long enough to know Rocket actually means ‘don’t you dare stop.’

***

Two weeks fly by.

Happiness isn’t Rocket’s bag, but for two weeks he lets himself drown in it. A part of him still waits for the other shoe to drop. For this to all be some elaborate prank. But the punchline doesn’t come.

Unless the punchline is that Thor digs Rocket. Like, _really_ dig him. Rocket gets the curiosity thing where he’s concerned. Some types have a kink for weird shit like Rocket. They treat sex with Rocket like it’s some lab experiment. Poking and prodding at Rocket’s furry body. Trying to figure out what makes him tick.

Thor treats sex with Rocket like he's addicted. Rocket has never had a partner as responsive as Thor. The slightest tease of Rocket’s tongue makes Thor perk up, the start of arousal swelling in his shorts. Thor likes peeling Rocket’s flight suits off button by button. He likes kissing every bit of Rocket’s body the second it’s exposed. He rubs his lips through Rocket’s furry belly and nips at Rocket’s tail.

The first time Thor goes down on Rocket, Rocket nearly blacks out. The first time Thor tongues Rocket’s asshole, Rocket _does_ black out. He comes to after, well, coming. Thor’s laugh cracks with relief. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Thor gets off just fine without Rocket touching him at all. If he has Rocket’s dick in his mouth and a few fingers crooked in Rocket’s ass, Thor is good. Rocket hears the moist drag of Thor getting himself off. Sometimes, after Rocket spends, he lets Thor rest a cheek on his belly and urges Thor towards his own orgasm.

Thor gets off just fine when Rocket touches him too.

One time, Rocket nearly gets flipped off Thor’s chest. He has Thor’s nipple in his mouth, slurping and nibbling away. Thor’s nipples get so nice and red. They’re like berries, budding and eager for sucking.

“Watch it,” Rocket snaps when he almost tumbles off.

Thor doesn’t hear him, Rocket can tell. He has a faraway look, red blistered across his cheeks. Rocket blinks at him. “Did...you just come?” he asks. Thor is so far gone, all he can do is nod.

Rocket gets Thor off in the refresher just by lathering Thor’s hair. Thor makes the most ridiculous sounds, gasps and groans while Rocket soaps his scalp. It’s the first time Thor orgasms while they’re kissing. Thor has his head craned at the right angle for Rocket’s mouth. Rocket nibbles on his lips. Thor’s sudden, “Oh gods,” almost knocks Rocket off his shoulder.

Rocket sucks Thor off sometimes too. As good as he can, anyway. He winds his furry body around Thor’s shaft and drags his tongue in and around Thor’s slit. Rocket slurps up his precum and tongues into the narrow hole. The metal screws in Rocket’s chest snag on Thor’s sex. They used to embarrass Rocket. But they make Thor moan so weakly that Rocket thinks he may come from the metal alone.

Thor doesn’t. He comes from Rocket’s mouth dragging on his cockslit like a cigar.

Rocket can’t take all of Thor. When Thor comes, it’s like a freight train. Rocket swallows until he thinks he's drowning. The rest soaks into his fur. Cum dribbles down his snout and cakes the point of his ears.

“You asshole,” Rocket tells Thor’s hazy face.

“Come here,” Thor says, eyes dark with hunger. Quiet as the words are, they don’t leave much room for arguing. Rocket is the half-unconscious recipient of multiple finishes this night.

By all rights, the sex should make things weird on the ship. It doesn’t. Rocket's relationship with Thor is as easy as ever. They hang with Groot on the bridge, laughing and sniping at each other as usual.

Their biggest point of contention? Thor’s side of the bargain with Eitri. He gets a metal disk the size of Rocket’s hand. That’s it.

“I am Groot,” Groot mumbles, glaring at the supposed ‘weapon.’

“Oh, I don’t know,” Thor says “Sometimes the best things come in tiny packages.” He glances at Rocket. Groot does too, and smirks.

“Tiny package, huh?” Rocket snorts. “You sure that’s what you want to go with?”

“The best things!” Thor reiterates emphatically.

Rocket waves him off in favor of eying Groot. “This is _your_ fault. You and your creepy grin. We could’ve had a big, fancy star-weapon! Instead we got some freaking coaster.”

“I am Groot,” Groot mutters sullenly.

“I’ll have you know,” Thor interrupts, “that Eitri spoke quite highly of both of you. For example, he said he has never known a more noble tree.”

Rocket rolls his eyes. “I mean, let's be real. How many trees they got on a scrap heap in the middle of space?” Groot sticks a leafy tongue out at him. Rocket gladly ignores it. “How ‘bout me? What’d the dwarf say about me?”

Thor beams at him, arms stretched to recline on the back of Rocket and Groot’s chairs. “He said I have quite eclectic taste.”

Rocket groans. The sound almost manages to drown out Groot’s chortles. “Great,” he grumbles. “Groot’s a noble tree, and we got a spare part for a souvenir.” He tosses the supposed ‘weapon’ in the air. “This hammer tip better have some truth to it-”

He blinks when Thor lunges to catch the disc before it falls. “Rabbit!” Thor chides, eyes wide. “Are you trying to kill us all?”

Rocket tilts his head. “Not today,” he says. “Yet. Day's still young. Why? He tell you what this thing does?”

“Not exactly,” Thor says. He breathes easier with the weapon safely in his palm. “All Eitri said was that this would satisfy Tree’s love of- what did you call it? Kaboom?”

Rocket and Groot exchange a look.

“Awesome,” Rocket breathes. Groot nods in eager agreement.

It’s a good two weeks. No, a great two weeks. Two weeks are not anywhere near long enough.

***

C-53 doesn’t look too bad from space. A passerby would never guess how much of a trash can it is on the surface. It has sprawling blue oceans and green, fertile continents. A fair amount of cloud cover too, puffy grayish veins that swirl under its atmosphere.

“A planet of morons,” Rocket deems it. “Check out their satellites. Pathetic. We’re at short range, and none of ‘em even see us! Readout on the surface is complete. No land sensors of any kind. Nothing’s scanning us. No one knows we’re here.”

When he cocks his head upward, Thor is leaning against his chair. “Our voyage here is a friendly one,” Thor muses. “Imagine if another were not. They're quite defenseless.”

Groot gives Thor a troubled look at the thought. Rocket is far less bothered. “If they don’t want to be easy pickings, they should learn a thing or two. Look outside their own pretty little planet for once.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Thor says, but he still sounds pensive.

Given the lack of anything interesting on C-53’s surface, it is easy to pick up abnormal readings. A spike in energy unlike anything else emanating from the planet, for example. The anomaly hits their sensors like a flatlined heart springing with sudden life.

“Must be it,” Rocket says.

“Yes,” Thor agrees, “I believe so.” He speaks quietly, serious gaze on the front shield’s scanners. Rocket doesn’t miss how tight his hands are on the back of his chair.

“I am Groot?” Groot asks, gazing at Thor.

Thor cracks a smile. “There’s no sense waiting, is there? We've come this far.”

Something cold and nervous chills Rocket's belly. Rocket wants Thor to be worthy. He wants the guy to lift his hammer and give one last FU to his old man.

Rocket also wants Thor to stay, he realizes. The truth hits Rocket like getting caught under the wheels of a semi. Thor won’t stay if he’s juiced up on god mojo. He'll want to go home to his prince life with his royal family and all his pretty god friends.

“Perhaps I should go alone,” Thor says. “Midgard is not known for sentients of your kind. In this state, I can at least pass for one of them.”

“I am Groot,” Groot tells him.

“Yeah, bullshit,” Rocket agrees. “We’re going. Think we should take the coaster?” He eyes the weapon in Thor’s hand.

Thor is still tense, but he manages a laugh. “We are not taking a weapon of Nidavellir onto a planet with no intergalactic security.” Thor’s smile fades to thoughtfulness. He looks between Groot and Rocket. “Thank you,” he tells them. “It would be my honor to have you by my side, my friends.”

Rocket shrugs. “Cool. That’s settled.”

“I am Groot?” Groot asks, looking between them.

Rocket rolls his eyes. “What do you mean ‘what do you wear to something like this’? You never wear anything!”

“I am Groot,” Groot balks, sounding offended.

“Right,” Rocket cracks. “Know what freaks out humies more than a Groot? A Groot wearing pants.”

Their banter flies right over Thor’s head. His eyes never leave the blipping red dot on C-53’s map over a continent called North America.

“I’ll ready myself,” Thor tells them. “Then we go.

***

Rocket expects C-53 to be crap, but he also figures he'll see enough funny Terran stuff to keep him entertained. The planet has a few decent-sized cities, supposedly. A lot less advanced than the universal standard but with amusing quirks.

Their sensors lead them to a wide stretch of nothing. It’s a whole lot of dirt. Scratch that, it’s a whole lot of _mud_. By the time Rocket fixes a cloaking device on their ship, rain is pattering against its front shield. Grumbling, Rocket decides on heavier boots.

Rocket doesn’t get how it’s possible for a place to have this much nothing. He’s been on remote worlds before, but those spots are remote for a reason. Icy mountains. Dangerous weather. Blistering heat. This stretch of C-53 is empty without giving away any reason for why. Maybe it’s so boring that even humies choose not to live out here. If so, Rocket supposes he can give them credit for good taste.

They don’t have to walk far to find the energy source. The flat plain dips into a sudden crater. It’s like a huge clay pit, its sides turned to mudslides. In the center, Rocket spies a handle sticking up from the dirt.

Rocket isn’t sure what he expected from Thor’s weapon. He heard ‘hammer’ over and over again, but he kept thinking of some run of the mill tool belt hammer. What Rocket sees couldn’t be further from a workshop staple. Even caked in rain and mud, the metal screams Nidavellir handiwork. Its blunt rectangular shape is almost as tall as Rocket. He pictures Thor wielding the thing. Knocking assholes in the face with an unforgiving side. The thought makes Rocket grin.

Between Rocket and Groot, Thor takes a breath. He’s braided his hair back for the occasion, a black cloak keeping him relatively dry. Still, rain slides down his face. His eyes don’t seem to want to decide on an emotion. He looks happy and sad. Relieved and frightened.

“I am Groot,” Groot says softly, looking at him.

Thor chuckles. “Of course I’m going. I just - I have not seen it in so long. It’s… I thought I may never see Mjolnir again.” His voice catches.

Rocket nudges Thor’s knee with an elbow. Thor glances down at him.

With another heavy breath, Thor steps into the pit. His boots skid in the sinking mud, but he stays on his feet. Hair sticks to his skin as the rain pelts down harder. Overhead, the skies swirl in an unhappy twist of gray.

Thor approaches the hammer slowly. He holds his hands to his side, the fingers open in wary preparation. Rocket can’t see Thor’s face from this angle. He meets Groot’s gaze. Groot is frowning. His body grows darker, wood soaked by the thickening rain.

Thor stops in front of the weapon. His shoulders arch with tension, feet planted in a battle stance. He looks back at Rocket and Groot and gives them a weak smile. Even from this distance, Rocket sees the nerves twisting in Thor's eyes. When Thor turns back to the weapon, his head bows like he’s in prayer.

When Thor's fingers close around the hilt of the weapon, it’s like they’re meant to be there. Thor’s hand looks right wrapped around Mjolnir. The handle fits his grip perfectly. Thor’s back rises and falls with another deep breath. His body flexes, and he pulls.

Nothing.

Thor lets go of the hammer, rain-soaked hair whipping about his face. It’s grown cold, the rain carving down like knives.

Thor wraps two hands around Mjolnir’s hilt and pulls. From above the pit, Rocket sees how much energy Thor is using. His back flexes like a crossbow’s string, the soles of his boot disappearing in the mud. The hammer doesn’t so much as inch from the slop.

“Oh no,” Rocket breathes. “No, no.”

Thor falls to his knees in the dirt. He pulls again, craning with all his might. And again. And again. Even over brisk winds, Rocket hears Thor scream.

Rocket squints through the weather onslaught. There is someone on the other side of the crater. Some dark figure, blurry through the heavy drops.

Rocket takes off around the pit’s perimeter, ignoring Groot’s surprised shouts. The figure does not see Rocket at first, staring down into the pit. He is looking at Thor. Watching him fail.

Anger inexplicable boils up in Rocket’s veins. “Hey!” he shouts over the pounding storm. “Asshole! Who are you?”

A pale face turns towards him, shrouded by dark hair. He isn’t smiling at Thor’s misfortune. He isn’t...doing much of anything. His expression is thoughtful, staring across the mess of marshy earth.

Then, without warning, he’s gone. He’s just, he’s _gone_ , poofed out of existence in a flash of green light. It’s like he was never here.

Rocket stops where he is, a chill crawling down his spine. He stares at the open space where the stranger stood seconds ago. Rocket rubs his eyes and looks again. Panting for breath, Rocket spins to stare down into the pit.

Thor is still on his knees. He shows no sign of having seen any of what transpired. The stranger, Rocket screaming.

Thor's eyes rest solely on the object of his search. His fingers graze the grooves of its handle and brush across its metal face. As the minutes pass, grief and rain seem to weigh him deeper into the mud. His head hangs to his chest, rain drowning his face like tears.

Rocket has no idea how much time passes. He only knows that the rain is relentless. Not a single inch of Rocket is still dry. He’s become one with cold discomfort, rainwater sloshing in his boots.

Rocket only feels the time when dripping wooden fingers brush against his back. Rocket nods at Groot and climbs his offered arm.

With care, Groot sloshes down into the crater. His heavy wooden feet leave behind stump-round footprints. He stops in front of Thor, Mjolnir fixed to the mud between them. Thor does not move.

This close, Rocket sees that mud has soaked into Thor's pants. The slop stews over his kneecaps and cakes the hem of his cloak. This close, Rocket also sees that it isn’t only rain soaking Thor's face. His swollen eyes rest on the thing that was once his birthright.

“Thor,” Rocket whispers. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

Thor rises from his knees like sleepwalking. His face does not move, gaze still lingering on the weapon.

“Thor,” Rocket tries again.

Closing his eyes, Thor turns back for the ship.

***

No one speaks in the hours that pass. Rocket towels himself off while Groot guides their ship back to the black comfort of space. Thor wanders like a zombie into the refresher. No one tells him anything, and he says nothing to them.

Rocket stays in the cockpit with Groot until he can't take sitting up any longer. He doesn't say anything to Groot when he leaves. Groot's sad eyes remain on the front shield.

When Rocket finally trudges to the overnight room, Thor is already in bed. His back is to Rocket, his body tucked to the back wall. Thor’s hair is damp from his shower at least, not the freezing rain. He isn’t asleep, Rocket can tell from the tension hunched through his back.

Rocket climbs onto the bed. He climbs over Thor too. Rocket crosses at Thor’s calves, finding less mass to bridge than higher up Thor’s body. Thor is close to the wall, but a narrow stretch of mattress gives Rocket space to scale. At Thor’s chest, Rocket lies down, fitting himself to Thor’s skin. Thor does not look at Rocket.

Rocket tucks himself close, snout resting against Thor’s neck. Thor swallows under him. He offers no greeting, but he bows his head enough to set his cheek against Rocket’s fur.

Rocket doesn’t know what to say, so he does not say anything. He counts the rhythm of Thor’s chest rising and falling against his body. Rocket loses track of time, and of what good he thought he’d do by coming in here and joining Thor. There isn’t anything he can do to make this better.

“Thor?” Rocket says at last.

When Thor finally responds, it is with a muttered, “What?”

“I kinda want to blow something up. What do you think?”

Another long pause, Thor’s breaths shivering between them.

“Like what?” Thor replies.

***

They land on C-59, also known in some circles as Pluto. C-53’s sensors are so jacked there’s no chance they will spot one small spacecraft landing on this frozen rock. Thor, Rocket, and Groot descend from the ship’s platform in air-regulating exo-suits.

They let Thor carry the kaboom-coaster from Nidavellir. Their boots crunch across the ice surface. Rocket thought C-53 was a shithole, but C-59 makes Earth look like paradise. C-59 is all frost and rock far as the eye can see.

It turns out, Thor didn’t bother to get instructions for their kaboom-coaster. He fumbles with it in his exo-suit covered hands, tapping and pressing various points of the disc. The wait is excruciating, but Rocket has to admit he’s glad to see Thor’s attention on something different.

“Can’t believe you gave me grief for chucking the thing,” Rocket cracks. “You don’t even know how the hell it works.”

“Not helping,” Thor tells him. His pokes and prods pick up in intensity.

“I am Groot,” Groot adds helpfully.

“I _am_ tapping it,” Thor insists.

Rocket holds out a hand. “Your mitts are too damn big. Give it here, I got this.”

Thor’s look says he isn’t ready to hand over the weapon. But with a sigh, he relents, placing the disc on Rocket’s hand. “Try not to kill us all?” he says.

“Real funny. Now.” Rocket stares down at the disc. “Maybe it’s something with the rim, right? This little ridge here, it’s raised from the rest of the thing. Maybe you tap it or- how about-” He slides his finger along the rim. The weapon buzzes in his hands. “Er. That may have done something.”

“I am Groot?”

“Yes, what did it do?” Thor asks expectantly. “Did you feel something?”

“It’s like the power turned on. Hang on. How do you- what’s the front of this thing versus the back? How am I supposed to know if I’m about to nail myself in the chest with some Nidavellir-strength kaboom?”

Thor shrugs a shoulder. “Faith?” he suggests.

Rocket snorts. “Yeah, right.” Experimentally, he taps the top of the disc. The kaboom-coaster gives a light sputter in his hands.

Then, blue light jolts out.

It’s a flash brighter than the most impressive hyperdrive Rocket’s ever seen. He yelps and nearly drops the thing in surprise. At his side, Thor jolts back, and even Groot raises an arm to mask his eyes from the glow. Its power seems all the more impressive next to the monotonous ice surface of C-59. A cloud of frozen particles and rock shoots up, masking their view of the open blackness above.

Rocket squints through the fading blast. “Oh shit,” he mumbles.

What was once a frozen sheet of wasteland is now a canyon. The blast tears a hole in the planet’s surface and leaves behind a frozen network of caverns and craters.

“Oh shit,” Thor echoes at his side. The blast radius doesn’t seem to have an end. At least, not one close enough for Rocket’s eyes to make out.

“I am Groot,” Groot breathes behind them.

“That _was_ awesome,” Rocket whispers. “You, uh, don’t think anyone’ll care, right?”

“Probably not,” Thor reasons, shrugging. “A mere surface scratch, that’s all. And you were quite right about Midgard. Its advancements in space exploration are rather rudimentary. I’ll bet it will take them a few years to even notice.”

“I am Groot,” Groot suggests, grinning.

“We ain’t firing it again,” Rocket snaps back. His bluster becomes a matching smirk. “Not here, anyway. Think of someplace else to give it a whirl. Be creative. Thor?”

Thor chuckles, staring out at the brand new ice valley. “I’ll think of something. We have all the time in the universe, don't we? ...I wonder if that was the highest setting. Do you think that was the highest setting?”

With a smile, Rocket pats Thor’s leg.

***

Rocket can’t say he’s a big fan of Xandar.

It’s a nice enough planet for someone without a rap sheet. All green and sunny and whatnot. Problem is, Rocket _has_ a rap sheet, and Xandar has one of the best military operations in the system. Still, it’s worth a stop now and then to scope for new jobs.

Rocket runs his scanner over randos hanging out in the square. “Pathetic,” he decides. A mini-humie toddling along makes him scowl. “Walk on your own, idiot! It’s not cool to get help!” Rocket turns to his right and snickers. “Oh come on, look at this asshole. Where’s your wife, old man?” He cracks up.

It’s a warm, bright day, which means Groot is being stupid and has his head bowed over a fountain. He shovels water down his gullet, slurping the spray with hums of satisfaction.

By his side, Thor is splashing fountain water on his face. “You’re both disgusting,” Rocket tells them. He jabs a finger at Thor. “Quit encouraging him. I thought you royal types had manners.”

With a grin, Thor sinks down to sit against the edge of the fountain. He leans close enough to speak against the point of Rocket’s ear. “If I stop encouraging him," he says, “what do I get in return?”

“What, you ain’t getting enough from me as is?” Rocket tries for unimpressed but winds up with Thor’s big-ass hand between his shoulders. Fingers dig deep and pointedly into the tuff of Rocket’s neck.

Rocket’s purr comes out half-growl. This time, he remembers to snap his teeth at Thor’s fingers.

Thor pulls out of range of Rocket’s bite just fast enough. His brows quirk with interest, and he traces his tongue over his lips. An answering shudder flutters in Rocket’s belly.

Rocket stamps it down with a glare. “I’m _working_ here,” he grumbles. It takes some effort, but Rocket forces his eyes off Thor’s stupid-hot face and back to his tracker.

With another turn, his holo-screen pulls up something interesting. Name: Peter Quill. Alias: Star Lord. Bounty: 30,000 units.

“Well looky here,” Rocket hums. He shows the readout to Thor. “That’s one hell of a haul. You game?”

Thor looks between the bounty listing and the humie on the raised platform above the square. “Seems unfair,” Thor says. “There doesn’t look to be anything special about him. He’s rather sad and frail, really.”

“I am Groot,” Groot weighs in.

“Good point, Groot," Rocket enthuses. "I do like easy money. Know what I like more than easy money?” He turns twinkling eyes on Thor. “Celebrating easy money.”

Thor answers with a kiss to Rocket's snout. Rocket's nose scrunches, fur accordioned under Thor’s lips. It’s instinct by now for Rocket to take a deep breath whenever Thor gets this close. Thor smells as good as ever, gross fountain water aside. Clean and warm and entirely Rocket’s.

“I like your plans,” Thor says, voice rumbling against Rocket’s fur. With twitched lips, he pushes himself upright. “Well then.” Thor looks up at Quill. “Shall we?”

Rocket grins and follows. “You bet we shall.”

*The End*


End file.
